


Unconscious

by Rangergirl3



Series: Whumptober 2019 [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Keith (Voltron) Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 21:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangergirl3/pseuds/Rangergirl3
Summary: Keith drifts in and out of consciousness, but one things stays the same.He really, really wishes the pain would stop.





	Unconscious

**Author's Note:**

> Continues from the prompt 'Stab Wound'. 
> 
> (aka well of course I can write more whump with this scenario!)

_It hurts._

That's the only thing Keith knows anymore, although there are variations to the pain.

He can't feel his left leg, but his right knee is swollen and purple and throbs in time to his heartbeat. The cuffs around his wrists have only tightened over time, and now he can barely feel the skin beneath the metal links, which is torn and bruised. His lungs feels as empty as if they were hollowed out, while his shoulders and back burn and ache from being pinned down on the ground as Haxus tore out his canine teeth. Blood still trickles down along his jaw, and continues to drip down from the cuts and lacerations all over his scalp and shoulders. The stab wounds in his side and torso aren't bleeding any more, but that's only because fire burned away their ability to do so.

Someone's telling him it's done now, but Keith knows that can't possibly be true, and sure enough, the pain doesn't fade.

It _always_ hurts.

* * *

* * *

"-and - done!" 

Even as Olia deactivates the make-shift cauterizing tool, Matt turns and begins dry-heaving into the nearest corner of the escape pod.

Olia winces in sympathy, doing her best not to follow suit. 

It's difficult, though.

None of this is even _remotely_ easy to process.

As Matthew recovers his composure, Olia accesses the former Red Paladin's condition. One or two of the deeper cuts on his scalp will require stitching. True, it might be uncomfortable, but compared to cauterization - 

She swallows hard, the memory of the young Blade's screams still ringing in her ears.

There's no need to repeat that process.

In all honesty, she's not certain she could make herself take that course of action again.

Not unless there was no other choice.

* * *

_You're doing great_, Matt tells himself. _See?_ _Look at that. You've hardly thrown up at all. _

He begins to straighten up, but when the smell of burned flesh hits his nose, he chokes and returns to retching.

_Fuck, fuck, **fuck**._

"-att?"

Olia's tone is concerned, but not annoyed.

"Matt, when you're - uh, done, I - I need your help."

Finally, Matt spits out the last of the bile, then concentrates on breathing in air through his mouth. He does it once, twice, determined to recover his composure as quickly as possible.

_Get it together, Holt,_ he tells himself._ Just don't think about it, okay? Not now. Later. You can continue this later._

After all, Olia has a much keener sense of smell than he does, and _she's_ not losing it like this.

* * *

* * *

For what seems a brief instant, Keith drifts in and out of consciousness. Eventually, though, the pain pulls him back into vague awareness of his surroundings.

Somewhere nearby, words trickle in and out of his understanding.

"-att - can you - tell me - 'ppened?"

For a moment, there's no reply, but then Matt rasps out a string of words, and the unfamiliar voice near Keith's head lets out a soft growl of anger.

Out of reflex, he flinches away from the sound.

_Anger is bad. It means more pain._

* * *

* * *

Keith groans and tries to roll away from her, but Olia keeps one hand on his shoulder and prevents him from doing so.

"It's all right, cub," she says. "It's all right. It's just us, yes? You, me, and Matt."

From over in the corner where he's just managed to sit up again, Matt waves a shaky hand.

"-yep," Matt croaks. "-'s just us."

But Keith doesn't seem to hear his friend. He tries, again, to move further away from Olia, and she growls under her breath as she realizes at least part of the problem.

_His eyelids are still coated in dried blood. _

As Matt crawls back over towards the two of them, she tries to clean some of the crusted blood away with a damp cloth. It's difficult, as the blood has dried in segments. As she does so, she realizes that there is a steady, heavy stream of blood still coursing down the lower half of Keith's face.

* * *

* * *

When clawed fingertips trace the line of his jaw, Keith tries, again, to recoil from the touch.

_Haxus is going to hurt him again._

But someone's hand presses him back down, and then claw-tips settle onto his chin, and although their touch is light, the fear inside Keith's chest makes the pain get so, so much worse.

_He doesn't want this._

But he can't move.

_He can't even talk._

His jaw aches, burns, bleeds, and there's nothing he can do to make it stop.

_Someone asks a question, but Keith can't answer._

All he can do is remain still and hope that maybe, this time, he won't remain conscious long enough for the pain to sink in.

* * *

* * *

Olia frowns in some distress. She senses that there is some unaddressed injury, but she does not yet know what it could be. From the bleeding, she knows it must be severe.

"Matthew, what - ?"

Even as Matt reaches them, Olia turns to look back at him, her eyes wide and somehow very frightened, and when she speaks again, it's almost a whisper.

"- did they - did they tear out his tongue?"

At that mental image, a fresh bout of nausea threatens to send Matt back onto all fours, but he resolutely remains kneeling upright.

"-no," he says. "Not - not that."

All the same, Olia's shoulders do not release their tension.

"Then - what could -"

* * *

Matt tells her.

Olia doesn't want to believe it, but she knows Matt is telling the truth.

* * *

* * *

_Voices, talking._

Keith can't understand what they're saying.

All he knows is that the pain won't let him rest.

_It never does._

* * *

* * *

"The - canines of even a half-Galra are - bound to grow back in time," Olia says. She forces herself to sound resolutely positive. "Perhaps even within the day. I think it's a - rather - common occurrence, to loose them so...young..."

Matt's face is still a dangerous pale green, but she continues. 

"We should ensure he does not aggravate his injuries. I think...I think perhaps we stitch up the worst of the scalp wounds, and then - we should start an intravenous line. Even with the treatment we can give him, he can't afford to lose any more blood -"

Matt nods. "I have a compatible blood type, but - Olia, he still doesn't know it's us. If he tries to fight - he'll -"

Olia looks down at the semi-conscious Blade.

"I believe you are correct, Matt."

Matt buries his face in his hands.

"- and he - he hates needles. He won't - just let us - "

He breaks off, not wanting to continue.

"I don't know what to do."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are amazing!! I always love to hear which parts you enjoyed, or if a certain line or moment really struck you! :-)
> 
> I'm on Tumblr - come say hi! <3


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